


Just Swingin' By

by ParadoxalPen



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, Non-Graphic Violence, Romance, Spider-Quinn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-13 18:09:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18474313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParadoxalPen/pseuds/ParadoxalPen
Summary: Spider-Quinn AU - 'She rips open the door, expecting to see someone along the likes of Doc Ock, but instead is greeted with the sight of the same girl she had saved earlier, crushed under an overlarge suitcase. Guess the Universe really does have it out for her today, huh?'





	Just Swingin' By

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh, I’m supposed to be studying for my exams, but fuck it, when Faberry wants out, it gets out, dammit! This is kinda cracky in tone, so don’t take it too seriously.  
> 

_Take this pink ribbon off my eyes_  
_I’m exposed, and it’s no big surprise_  
_Don’t you think I know exactly where I stand?_  
_This world is forcing me to hold your hand_  
_‘Cause I’m just a girl, oh little old me_  
_Well, don’t let me out of your sight_  
_Oh, I’ve had it up to here!_

 _~Gwen Stefani; No Doubt,_ Just A Girl  
  


It’s not like Quinn hates her job.

But then again, it’s not really a job to begin with.

She’s still wondering why the universe hates her so much when she doesn’t dodge out of the way in time.

And ends up with a fucking fist right in her face.

Yeah, Quinn really damn hates her job.

Grunting, she sends out a sweep kick and knees the thug in the groin, just for good measure, before webbing him up and sending him flying to the wall, his pained groan only slightly lifting her mood. _One down._

She looks at the mob of criminals before her.

_…And fifty more to go._

The blonde sighs and shoots out a web, yanking the nearest one to her and welcoming him to her fist, beginning the endless chain of throws, webs, and punches. Normally, she loves the adrenaline rush that this gives her, but she’s _tired_ , dammit, and Wilson Fisk’s stupid goons are not helping her headache at all. At least when she was fighting Vulture it was fun, but noooo, Kingpin had to send the most untrained, incompetent goons to attack her. Did he really think _that_ little of her?

Pretty soon, she’s finished all of them off and she proudly surveys her handiwork with a smirk. On the wall, all strung up and ready for the police to arrest, are the Fisk thugs arranged to look like an impromptu spidey symbol. Not too shabby, if she does say so herself.

Hearing sirens off in the distance, she swings off, very much eager to get in a good night’s sleep.

She’s almost home when a scene catches her eye, and she perches on a rooftop to get a better look. Three armed men, cornering a girl around her age in a dark alley.

Quinn resists the urge to roll her eyes, because could this get any more cliché? You would think that by now, New Yorkers would’ve learnt to avoid suspicious places, but no, what do they do? Oh look, it’s a dark and mysterious abandoned underground construction site, let’s go there and get killed!

Quinn very nearly ignores it altogether, because she’s drained to the bone and worn-out, and if the police hate her that much then by all means, they can do the saving, but then she sees the look of terror on the girl’s face.

It reminds her of the expression Mercedes wore when she got shot right in front of her. Like so many other times, she blocks out the memory before the dull ache in her chest can consume her alive, and closes her eyes. She counts to three, battling with her willpower.

_One…Two…Dammit._

She swings, quite literally, onto the scene, kicking down one of them with a satisfying crash. Yanking the guns from the others’ hands with her webs, she sends them flying back into them like mini boomerangs, and with cries of agony, they stagger back from the impact.

She manages to hit one in the face and another right in the nuts, and the utter pain on their faces makes her lips quirk almost evilly – oh, who’s she kidding, definitely evilly – and her mood lift a tad more. _Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it?_

One hand over his face, the one that she’s just given a nice shiner to glares daggers at her – well, as much as a person with a rapidly bruising eye can anyway – and snarls, “Bitch!”

He charges at her, and Quinn allows a small smirk to appear on her face. Seriously, why were people so dumb? One of the reasons why she made herself a ‘public superhero’ was just because she thought that some notoriety would scare potential punching bags off, but nope, they always blindly rush towards her like they have a chance at winning.

Well, at least she has stupid fun putting them back into their place.

Speaking of fun, she executes a totally awesome flip using Shiner as a boost-pad, grabbing his shoulders and slamming him to the hard ground, the loud impact very much satisfying to her ears. “Do you guys like, not know me or something? I’m _Spider_ woman, not Kypto or whatever.”

She just barely manages to dart out of the other dude’s knife slashing at her, who she’s naming Nuts because really, she has to make this fun somehow, and she half-sighs half-grumbles, “No one appreciates my jokes these days.”

She shoots a web at Nuts’ feet, causing him to trip, and with a solid punch to his gut, he’s out like a light.

Dusting off imaginary lint from her hand, Quinn glances at the girl, whose expression is a mix between terror and awe. “You okay?”

The girl, who’s been in a state of shock since Quinn swooped in approximately forty-five seconds ago, seems to jerk out of her trance, letting out a deep breath to recollect herself. She shoots a small smile at Quinn, and ducks her head almost shyly. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for saving me, miss…Spiderwoman, is it?”

“You’ve got a fine memory,” Quinn smirks, “See you around.”

And with that, she sends out a web and swings through the cold New York air. Time to get some shuteye in.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

Quinn’s startled awake by a loud thump outside her door.

Shooting up in alarm, she surveys the empty dorm and looks at her alarm clock; 3:26. Poised to strike and web-shooters ready, she grumbles darkly, “Whoever woke me up at goddamn three in the morning will have hell to pay…”

She rips open the door, expecting to see someone along the likes of Doc Ock, but instead is greeted with the sight of the same girl she saved earlier, crushed under an overlarge suitcase. Eyes still droopy from sleep, the blonde quickly hides her web-shooters under her long sleeves and raises an eyebrow at the girl, not amused at all.

Bluntly, she asks, “Why the hell are you on my doorstep?”

The girl doesn’t reply, instead choosing to struggle against the luggage more with cute grunts, and Quinn resists the urge to laugh at the almost comical sight, because who even made suitcases that big, or actually, humans that tiny, but it’s fucking three am in the morning and she just wants to sleep, so she settles for scowling and taking the time to properly observe the girl, an instinct honed from years of spidey-work.

With silky brown tresses flowing down petite shoulders and big, round, doe chestnut brown eyes, the brunette is a beauty, no way around that, which under normal circumstances, would’ve given her a bit more leeway in Quinn’s book.

Too bad Quinn is fucking sleepy and this girl is the one thing between her and Hypnos.

The tiny girl, after another thirty seconds of fruitless struggling, finally gives up, before pouting adorably. Unable to keep her amusement at bay, Quinn smirks, “You okay there Short?”

The brunette tries pushing the luggage off her one last time, and when it fails, grumbles, “First of all, I resent your mockery of my vertical challenges, second, this isn’t a doorstep, and even if it were it’d be mine too, and- For the love of god _can you please help me up already_?”

Snorting, Quinn lifts the oversized baggage with one hand off of the girl, before bending down, reaching her other arm out to help her up. “Well, since you asked _so_ nicely.”

Coloring slightly, the now standing upright girl flushes. “My apologies, I’m just _really_ tired after the long day I had.”

A half-smile flickers on Quinn’s face, but then she recalls something the brunette had said earlier, and with the pieces falling into place, she frowns. Right as she opens her mouth to question the shorter girl, the brunette beats her to it.

“By the way, I’m Rachel. Your new roommate.”

Well, fuck, this is definitely going to make things harder.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

Living with Rachel isn’t that hard, surprisingly.

The brunette is always up early in the morning and asleep by the time Quinn gets back, and she rarely stays in the dormitory, always busy with her classes and auditions. Sneaking in and out of their room after crime-fighting takes a bit more effort on her part, but all in all, having the short yet loud diva around is a blessing in disguise.

When their schedules don’t clash for once, both getting to lounge around lazily, Rachel’s actually pretty pleasant to talk to, Quinn finding her dramatic tendencies and long-windedness cute instead of annoying like it should be.

That probably should’ve been the first warning sign.

But at this point, Quinn’s heart has been dormant so long, she can’t recognize it whirling to life, an old machine creaking into use for the first time in forever.

During the first two weeks, Quinn learns a lot about her new roommate, like how Rachel’s a Broadway stan, and how much she adores singing.

From the early daylight hours when Rachel is showering, to the mundane moments of when she’s reading assignments, the brunette is _always_ singing, one way or another. All the way from humming the Jonas Brothers’ _Sucker_ to belting out Hairspray’s _You Can’t Stop the Beat_ , Rachel’s melodious voice follows Quinn wherever she goes.

It really ought to be a nuisance, what with the blonde’s crabbiness with her quiet time, but just like most other things about Rachel, she thinks upon it fondly.

It’s on one such occasion where Quinn’s working on her web-shooters, her roommate’s previous rendition of Ariana Grande’s _7 rings_ – seriously, that song should _not_ be as catchy as it is – stuck in her head, when said roommate in question comes barreling through the door, leaving Quinn scrambling to shove everything into an open drawer and slamming it shut in a frenzy.

So her Spidey-sense likes telling her when some random dude tries punching her, but not when things like this happen?

(Okay, maybe she’s still slightly salty over the fact that it neglected to inform her that her shampoo bottle was about to land on her head that one time, but- brain, stop logic-ing her, dammit!)

With something akin to franticness in her eyes, Rachel’s head jerks around to scan the room in a panic. “Have you seen my Barbra-signed _Funny Girl_ playbill?”

“Uh, it’s right there on your tabletop?” She more asks than states, Rachel’s crazy-mode scaring her even more than the Prowler.

The shorter girl breathes a sigh of relief, and Quinn lets her guard down again, cautiously moving her chair to hide her drawers.

Of course, since we’ve already established that the universe hates her, this isn’t how things go.

After Rachel’s kissed the playbill reverently and put it back to its rightful place, she tilts her head, inquiring, “What’s that?”

Quinn’s brow furrows in confusion, but then she follows Rachel’s gaze and-

Shit, she forgot to close the drawer that held her Spidey-suit!

“Oh, that’s just for my sister,” she fibs, trying her best to act normal. “She’s a fan of Spiderwoman’s.”

_She hasn’t talked to Frannie in years._

“It looks so… _real_ ,” the brunette breathes, edging closer to get a better look.

Eyes slightly wide in alarm, Quinn repeats, “She’s a _really_ big fan.”

_The last thing Frannie said to her was that she hated her._

Rachel hums softly in reply, and inspects the suit carefully. Offhandedly, she says, “You know, she actually saved me the night I turned up here.”

“Really,” Quinn pretends that she doesn’t full-well know that, “What a coincidence.”

“Yeah,” Rachel agrees, “It is.”

And that’s the end of that.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

That _isn’t_ the end of that, to Quinn’s dismay.

Over the next few weeks, Rachel makes a few more inconspicuous queries about her alter-ego, and every time has the blonde sweating, afraid that the diva’s onto her.

“What’s she like?” Rachel would ask, and Quinn would reply, “I don’t know Short, I guess she likes saving people or something?”

It’s really freaking weird answering questions about herself, and she’s probably produced enough perspiration to fill entire swimming pools by answering Rachel’s questions, but it’s somewhat…nice, knowing that someone cares enough to ask about her, even if it’s for Spiderwoman.

Which brings us to now, where Quinn’s swinging around Times Square, looking for something to entertain herself with, because apparently shooting her webs at people’s food and drinks for fun isn’t allowed in the superhero handbook, with Sue Sylvester over at the Daily Cheerio totally making a fuss out of it.

Really, is it _that_ hard to let her have some fun?

She’s swinging from building to building doing flips and tricks, when her Spidey-sense tingles, and she hears a loud explosion, the familiar crackle of the Green Goblin filling her ears. She inwardly groans, _is it that time of the year where he breaks out of prison again_?

Using her webs to catch the construction debris that’s currently threatening to fall on civilians, she manages to web all of them up but one, heading on a first-course flight to-

_Rachel!_

She swings down, using her webs to build momentum, and just before the rumble hits her, Quinn grabs the brunette by her waist and swings them up to the nearest rooftop, panting as she sets Rachel down.

“Stay here,” she instructs, her voice modulator altering her voice, and when the shorter girl gives a yelp in response, Quinn wastes no time in swinging off to deal with Norman Osborn.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

When she gets back, battered and bruised, she half expects Rachel to be gone.

But instead, she’s greeted with the sight of a glowing smile, and…a tray of cookies?

“What are those?” she asks flatly.

“They’re ‘Thank You’ cookies!” Rachel beams, pushing the tray towards the superhero. “You know, to express my sincerest gratitude for your saving of me not once, but twice!”

Ignoring the slight warmth in her heart at the gesture – everyone seems to think her an asshole most of these days, which really, is pretty accurate in her opinion – Quinn instead focuses on other things. “I left you stranded on a rooftop; how did you get these?”

Other, more _trivial_ , things.

“I know you told me to stay here, but I was getting restless so I went downstairs and asked the couple there if they would lend me their kitchen,” the brunette explains, half-shrugging like it’s not crazy at all. “They were very understanding and even supplied me with ingredients, god bless them, so I whipped this batch of cookies up.”

Quinn lets out an incredulous laugh. “You’re…something else.”

“I know,” Rachel smiles at her, dimples and all, and a fluttering sensation makes its way to the taller girl’s stomach, chest filling with _something_.

It’s hastily pushed to the side, and Quinn offers, “Wanna eat them together?”

She realizes her mistake too late that she’s going to have to kind of take off her mask and voice modulator, and by then, Rachel’s already sat herself at the edge of the rooftop, feet dangling over the edge with a pleased hum.

“Aren’t you afraid that you’ll fall?” Quinn finds herself asking, getting more and more intrigued with the shorter girl.

Rachel shrugs. “You’ll catch me.”

It’s said with so much conviction that Quinn finds her breath catching, taken away by the unstoppable force that is Rachel Berry.

Luckily, she’s spared a response by the brunette patting the space next to her with an expectant glance, and the superhero obliges wordlessly, rolling up her mask carefully.

They eat in companionable silence, and after finishing her first cookie, Quinn commends, “You’re a phenomenal baker.”

And she’s a dumb fuck, because she _goddamn forgot to_ _alter her fucking voice._

Honestly, was there a Superhero 101 she neglected to attend or something?

Her inner monologue is interrupted when Rachel grins in response. “And you sound younger than I expected.”

“How’d you think that?” The taller girl manages to change her voice to a higher hue, different enough that her roommate won’t recognize her, but also natural enough so that it’s not hard to speak.

“I’d just thought you to be older, I guess,” Rachel reasons, “You’ve been kicking it alone for what, four years?”

“Five,” Quinn corrects, and there’s a tinge of weariness in her voice that has her tensing, because showing weakness is never good, and Rachel Berry is quickly becoming her Achilles’ Heel, the few moments they’ve shared together already endearing the tiny girl to the blonde.

A contemplative look crosses Rachel’s face, and she stays silent for a while. Just when Quinn thinks that Rachel’s going to ask her to swing her down so she can leave, the brunette speaks.

“Does it get tiring, being the hero all the time?”

The question hits Quinn like a brick, and she swallows. “Yes.”

It’s the most truthful thing she’s ever confessed to anyone, but it nowhere near prepares her for the brunette’s next question.

“Do you think it’d be better if you had people helping you?”

Quinn’s chest tightens and her heartbeat quickens, emotions locked up long ago stirred up. She closes her eyes. “No.”

There’s silence for a beat, and then Rachel’s next words are piercing through her, striking at places she didn’t even know existed anymore and rushing through her like cold needles, splashing at her with the icy blade of truth.

“Wouldn’t be better for you, or for them?”

The faces of all those before flash behind her eyelids, and the blonde clenches her jaw, getting up. “It’s getting late, I’ll take you home.”

The petite brunette protests, “But you haven’t-”

“Oh my god, would you stop being so nosy and just _shut up_ already?” Quinn snaps, and Rachel falls silent, a hurt look crossing her face.

The superhero bites her lip, and looks away, crossing her arms around herself protectively, before realizing what she’s doing and dropping her hands to her sides immediately in a trained reaction.

 _Great, now she feels like a total asshole, good job Quinn, just_ great _._

“Look, I-” The words get stuck in her throat. “I’ll just take you home, okay?”

The now silent brunette just stares at the floor, nodding mutely, and Quinn steps closer, noiselessly asking for permission. Rachel quietly directs her to their address, and the superhero hoists the smaller girl up bridal-style. “Hang on tight,” she mummers softly, and Rachel wraps her arms around Quinn’s neck, body still stiff.

Swinging back home in a silence that’s not at all as comfortable as their previous one, the blonde mentally applauds Rachel for not being freaked out at the high altitude, and soon enough, they’re back at the dorms, covered by the dim shadows.

Quinn awkwardly sets Rachel down, and she stares at the brunette, at a complete loss of words for a few seconds, before swallowing the lump in her throat, and with a rigid nod of her head, swings away.

She totally doesn’t aimlessly wander around kicking at rocks for hours before deciding to head home, because that would be childish of her.

(She totally does.)

When she gets back, the lights are off and Rachel’s facing the wall, though she’s clearly awake and, by the look of it, upset.

A righteous anger surfaces for a second, because really, what right did she have for getting upset anyway, but Quinn clamps down on it and trudges off to bed. Rachel doesn’t know that she’s actually Spiderwoman, so getting angry now would be unfair to both of them.

Out of impulse, she whispers into the room, “Are you okay?”

“No,” is what Rachel miserably mumbles back, and Quinn might’ve laughed at her dramatic tendencies if she doesn’t instantly feel bad for putting those emotions in her.

“Wanna talk about it?” she offers meekly.

Her roommate bundles herself even further her covers. “You’ll think I’m being stupid.”

A few beats pass, and softly, Rachel asks, “Would you mind coming over and…cuddling with me for a while?” Quinn’s eyebrow rises, and she can feel the diva blush, judging by her body language, as she rushes to explain, “It’s just that, my fathers would do it when I was a kid to cheer me up, and well-”

She’s cut off by Quinn getting under the covers and gingerly wrapping her arms around the smaller girl’s midsection, spooning her, and a tranquil quiet falls upon them once more. The warmth and pleasant feeling is almost foreign to the superhero, because she can’t even remember the last time someone had just _held_ her, and even though her muscles and every inch of her programming is screaming at her to pull away, she bundles even closer to Rachel’s warm form, desperately clinging onto the girl as if Rachel’s going to leave if she doesn’t.

The petite girl pushes her back flush against Quinn, and unconsciously, the blonde tightens her arms in an effort to move even closer. The voice in her brain demanding space is pushed aside as Quinn finds herself infatuated with Rachel’s scent, burying her head into the brunette’s hair to inhale the vanilla and strawberry fragrance.

Rachel lets out a breathy sigh, contented and happy, and Quinn forgets what she was angry about in the first place, with only _Rachel_ existing in this moment. The blonde might freak the fuck out about the implications of this in the morning, but for now, she just wants to not care for a while and just be _happy_.

 

X-X-X-X-X

She wakes to the dim light coming through the blinds of their room, and as she groggily blinks her eyes open, she’s met with an immense sense of comfort and warmth, a feeling of safety that she hasn’t felt in a long time. And then she realizes.

Rachel’s next to her, legs tangled with her own, and Quinn’s arms are still wrapped around the tiny brunette’s toned stomach. The appropriate action here is to freak the fuck out, but somehow, the moment feels so unbelievably _right_ that Quinn can’t bring herself to panic.

Rachel abruptly turns on her side, now facing Quinn, and the blonde is struck by how absolutely _beautiful_ her roommate looks, brown locks falling gracefully down a serene face. Rachel looks so peaceful and _soft_ , chest slowly rising and falling, and Quinn’s breath is taken away, stolen by the innate beauty of the moment.

A flash of hesitancy passes through her at the thought, because she knows what’s happening, and it’s not good at all. Pulling away slightly, the blonde intends to retreat into her own bed to think in the privacy of her covers, but Rachel surges forward, wrapping her entire body around the taller girl, burrowing her head into Quinn’s neck.

She mumbles, “Don’t go,” and well, who is Quinn to deny her?

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

Quinn will deny to her last breath that she’s stalking Rachel.

She’s not.

She’s…simply looking out for a dear friend, that’s all.

Leaping across rooftops and crawling around corners, she takes note of where the brunette is heading and keeps a distance from her, hiding in the shadows.

…Okay, maybe she’s stalking Rachel.

But’s it’s not her fault, okay?

(It’s sooooo totally her fault.)

Ever since the night they slept in the same bed, Quinn has may or may not been avoiding Rachel like the plague, making sure the diva isn’t in the dorms before entering and basically tip-toeing around her own fucking dorm room.

It’s already enough that she has to deal with dangerous feelings for the small girl, but adding on top of that, she feels fucking-ass guilty for their ‘fight’ on the rooftop.

So, like any logical person would do, she’s taken to ~~stalking~~ looking out for Rachel and following her around.

It’s not stalking, dammit!

She’s still arguing with the inner voice in her head when suddenly, her spidey-sense tingles, and right at that moment, the burglar alarm of the store Rachel’s currently walking in front of sounds, and a man comes busting out of the door, one arm holding a money bag and the other a pistol.

Narrowing her eyes, Quinn zips down to the street, but the thief sees her coming, and in a panic, takes Rachel into a chokehold and presses his gun to her head. “D-Don’t come any closer! I-I’ll shoot!”

Quinn’s heart starts pounding a million miles per second, and she frantically looks for any openings to grab the gun without hurting Rachel.

Rachel’s eyes are wide, but strangely, she doesn’t look scared. Instead, an almost anticipating look fills it, and the fact that the diva’s trust in Spiderwoman – someone who’s she’s barely met – is that strong sends another rush through her, and she works to figure out a solution.

Sending down one of her spider-bots, Quinn tries stalling. “Look. Don’t do this. Put away the gun, and I promise you, everything will be just fine.”

The man shakes his head, as if he’s trying to convince himself otherwise. “N-No! You-You’re lying!”

At this point, the bot is already at the man’s arm, and Quinn takes a deep breath, hoping to gain a few more seconds. “I promise you,” she repeats, before the signal that the bot’s deactivated the gun beeps in her chipset, and she breathes a sigh of relief under her mask. “You’re going to jail.”

And with that, she sends a web towards the pistol, yanking it forward, and as the thief stumbles forward, she zooms to him with a solid punch to his face, and just like that, he’s knocked out.

Looking to Rachel with concerned eyes, she scans the brunette’s form for any injuries, and she asks, “Are you fine?”

“Never been better,” Rachel smiles in reply, though Quinn can hear the diva’s heartbeat thumping rapidly, evident through her quick breaths.

Now that the danger’s over, an awkwardness seems to settle over the two of them as the police come to take the burglar away. Quinn, biting her lip, starts to walk away, but right before she brings her arm up to send out a web, Rachel calls, “Wait!”

Turning to look at her roommate, Quinn tilts her head in a silent question, walking back to the brunette.

“I-I wanted to apologize for my behavior that night on the rooftop,” Rachel quietly says, “I was prying and you were clearly uncomfortable, but I didn’t stop. I’m sorry, and I hope that you’ll accept my apology.”

Jaw slightly open, Quinn stares at the shorter girl with disbelief, swallowing the sudden tightness building in her throat. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you, you were just curious,” she says finally, after what felt like an eternity of thinking, “I’m sorry too.”

A hopeful grin slowly lights up Rachel’s face, and she offers, “Friends?”

Friends. The word echoes through Quinn’s brain, and a fuzzy warmness reverberates throughout her being, panging at her heart, and she finds herself tentatively giving a small smile as well, even though the brunette can’t see it. “Friends.”

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

This friends thing is a lot of work, it turns out.

Because it seems like Rachel is hell-bent on being New York’s biggest and shiniest villain magnet, drawing attention from baddies wherever she goes.

Seriously, it’s like the girl is the fucking Eye of Sauron, and in the middle proudly displayed is ‘Come at me, I’m the perfect victim/hostage/whateverthefuckQuinn’ssavingmefrombeing’ and at this point Quinn might as well take up a full-time job protecting the diva.

Going to the Broadway theatre? Oh, Magneto, nice to see ya there. Walking through an alleyway? Hiya there Electro, you’re looking awfully green today. Just strolling in fucking daylight? Hey it’s Kraven, let’s go say hi!

Quinn’s probably had more heart attacks then the entire community center combined at this point, what with the diva getting herself into trouble every other week. Through hostage situations, almost-kidnappings, and falling rumble, Rachel has managed to star in every single one of them, and in the process, drag Quinn along with her alter ego into being her bestie.

Really, Rachel is just too damn charming for her own good.

Now that auditions have died down, it seems like Quinn’s always with Rachel doing something or another, from going to the park for a walk to simply staying at the dorms to chill. Quinn knows that with every second and beat that passes, she’s falling deeper and deeper, and this is only going to end in heartbreak, but for once, she just wants to be _happy_ , happy _with_ someone, even if it’s only for a few fleeting moments.

Which brings us to here, where Quinn’s just saved the brunette from yet another burglary situation, and after swinging them to another rooftop – yes, Rachel has somehow made rooftop conversations a thing too – she pants from exhaustion, hunching over, half her mask ripped off from one of the thug’s claws. “How the fuck do you keep on getting yourself into trouble?”

“There’s no need for such crassness,” Rachel chuckles, “And you always save me anyway.”

Groaning, the superhero lies on the ground, staring at the sky. “I’m going to die of a heart attack at this rate, Short.”

…Shit.

Why. Is. She. So. Fucking. Dumb?

Slowly turning her head as to gauge Rachel’s reaction nonchalantly, she tries her best to keep her muscles relaxed and her heartbeat regulated.

There’s an expression on the shorter girl’s face that Quinn can’t quite decipher, and before the blonde can go panic attack mode, Rachel shoots her a wry smile, “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

Choosing not to look a gift horse in the mouth, Quinn grumbles as Rachel goes lie down next to her. “If I die trying to save you my ghost is soooo going to haunt you.”

“I wonder, would you come back with or without the suit?” Her roommate puzzles.

Quinn snorts, letting herself ease back into their familiar banter. “Admit it, you just want to look at my guns.”

“Oh?” Rachel raises her brow, using her arm to prop herself up. “Let’s see ‘em then.”

Quinn barely has time to react before the shorter girl pounces on her, tickling her sides. Laughing, she swats at the offending arms. “Stop!”

Pretty soon, it turns into a full-blown tickle war, with fingers and body parts snaking around. At one point, their wrestling leads to Rachel almost falling off the roof, and Quinn catches her hand, tugging at it until both of them end up tumbling to the ground with childish giggles.

“You’re such a bad influence, Sh-Rae,” Quinn catches herself, laughter still subsiding within her chest.

Rachel gapes at her. “ _I’m_ the bad influence?”

“Mmhmm,” the blonde agrees, suddenly noting how close they are.

It seems as if Rachel does too, because Quinn knows that she doesn’t imagine her roommate’s eyes dart down to her uncovered lips, and she knows that she doesn’t imagine them darkening alongside her own.

Time seems to stop around them, like in those cliché movies, and it’s like Quinn can’t breathe, her breath hitched. Her heart is pounding at the speed of light, and she doesn’t know what’s happening and then Rachel’s leaning in and she is too and-

A fire alarm goes off.

Backing away a few steps with both the sound of Rachel’s heartbeat and her own thumping through her ears, Quinn _runs_ , jumping down to swing to save someone else, knowing that the brunette can get down on her own.

The almost-kiss haunts her throughout the day, her blood pumping and heart creaking.

After a day and a minute passes, Quinn realizes that she’s utterly and completely in love with one Rachel Barbra Berry.

Well, shit.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

They don’t talk about what almost happened – well, Quinn doesn’t, and awkwardly tip-toes around the topic every time Rachel wants to push it.

Maybe the brunette feels bad for prying last time, so she doesn’t press further.

Quinn doesn’t know if the swelling in her chest is relief or disappointment.

The next time she saves Rachel is in a dark alley, almost reminiscent of their first meeting, and she’s just finished shooting down the last thug with her webs.

Dangling from an old streetlight, she looks at her roommate. “You really should start staying at home more, you know. Annoy your neighbors with your singing, watch _Wicked_ again, eat more of your disgusting vegan food, the works.”

“How else would I see my Fiyero, then?” Rachel questions softly with a small smile, as if she’s confessing something.

Tilting her head, Quinn says, almost as an afterthought, “If anything, I’d be your Galinda.”

Rachel steps even closer, face to face with the blonde’s mask, and she whispers, seeking out Quinn’s eyes under the mask. “Do you really think we’ll end in tragedy?”

Quinn can’t move. She’s paralyzed, completely focused on Rachel, and consumed by the fire in her belly. The brunette, even from Quinn’s upside-down viewpoint, looks stunning, and when Rachel starts tugging down her mask to uncover her lips, the superhero is powerless to stop her, mesmerized by the shorter girl’s every move.

“Please,” Rachel breathes, as if she’s asking for permission.

Quinn exhales.

“No, we won’t.”

Lips meet lips, and they savor each other, desperate and tender all at once.

They push and pull, completely in sync with each other, and _something_ breaks the floodgates in Quinn’s chest, and she _lives._

At first, she kisses Rachel softly, because she’s afraid that the brunette is going to leave like everyone else, but then a purr erupts from said brunette’s throat, a warm hand coming up to caress her cheek, and Quinn can’t hold back anymore.

Kissing Rachel with everything she has, she lets all her emotions loose, and she loses herself in an urgent need she’s never experienced before, molding her lips to fit perfectly against soft and plump ones.

Rachel tastes like berries and honey, and Quinn thinks that she’ll gladly taste it for the rest of her life if she’s allowed to, the flavor additive and setting her entire body on fire.

Right then, Rachel’s tongue darts out to run across Quinn’s lips, and a moan builds up in the blonde’s throat, threatening to erupt.

It’s what spurs her into a realization of what she’s doing, and she pulls away like she’s been burned.

Eyes darting around in a frenzy, she pants out harsh and uneven breaths, and she looks at the shorter girl with wide eyes. Her heart is beating out of her chest for a different reason now, and she feels her chest contracting and expanding all at once.

“Quinn,” Rachel starts, expression concerned, and Quinn’s stomach drops.

She knows.

Taking in a choked breath, the blonde says, “I-I’m sorry.”

Like the coward she is, she swings away, and the last thing she sees is Rachel looking absolutely confused and heartbroken at the same time.

Quinn’s so fucking stupid.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

If she thinks how she avoided Rachel after the night they slept in the same bed to be dumb, then this is definitely a whole other monster, reaching new levels of stupidity.

She’s literally shifted her entire schedule around evading her roommate, from not going to lectures that Rachel knew she had all the way to crashing the night at Santana’s, one of her few college friends.

After Rachel had spent two days camped inside their dorm, Quinn had gone and forgone going back there too, so now basically she’s resorted to hanging on their rooftop watching out for the brunette and being creepy as fuck.

This whole thing is pointless. Juvenile. Something only a petulant child would do.

(But Quinn does it anyway.)

On day four, she spots Rachel sticking a note to the window, and as stealthily as she can, the blonde slowly crawls up the wall to read it, her curiosity overturning her hesitance of finding out what’s written.

_Quinn:_

_I know that you hang around the rooftop like a delinquent, and I really don’t appreciate the fact that you’re skipping classes just to elude my pursuits, but I do applaud your effort. Can we please talk?_

_I miss you,_

_Rachel Barbra Berry_

Quinn doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the way the brunette signed her full name, because it’s so entirely _Rachel_ that the superhero wants to run up to the girl and kiss her for all she’s worth and never let go.

But she can’t.

She only causes pain wherever she goes.

Sneaking a peek through the window, she sees Rachel getting ready to leave, hoisting her bag up. Closing her eyes, Quinn makes a decision, counts to three, and opens the window in a rush, worried that her bravado won’t last.

But Rachel’s already left, the door’s resonating thud echoing through her ears, mocking her.

She can stop cars crashing and trains derailing off the tracks, but she can’t find the strength to chase after the girl who’s undoubtedly captured her heart.

Quinn’s pathetic, she knows.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

On day seven, while she’s lounging around the rooftop sulking and brooding and totally not being pathetic, she hears a burglar alarm coming from their dorm room.

Fearing the worst, Quinn bursts through the window, not caring that she’s not wearing her suit, web-shooters loaded and ready to go. Her eyes flick around the room anxiously, and like every time Rachel gets into trouble, deathly afraid that she won’t be fast enough.

But the brunette is right there, sitting on her bed, with a speaker in her hand.

“Huh, it works,” she notes, as nonchalant as ever. “I’m most certainly going to give this a five-star review then.”

Quinn just _looks_ at the shorter girl for a second, and then she says, “What the _fuck_?”

Rachel huffs, “I thought that we’ve established cursing to be unbefitting of you, Quinn, honestly I don’t know why-”

“What the fuck, Rachel?” The blonde repeats, louder this time. “Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

“Well then how else was I supposed to acquire your attention?” Rachel almost whines, a pout forming on her face.

“Oh no, you do _not_ get to use that pout on me missy,” Quinn narrows her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

Her roommate seems to struggle to find the appropriate words, until finally, she sighs. “Look, I’m not going to lie you. I’ve suspected you to be your alter ego for a while, but I knew it when you slipped up by calling me Short. I…I like you. Maybe I’m even _in love_ , but I think we both know we can’t handle that right now, so please, if you don’t reciprocate, just tell me, and I’ll-” Rachel’s voice breaks here, and it takes everything in Quinn not to reach out and try to make it all better. “I’ll try my best to get over you.”

But what if she doesn’t want Rachel to get over her?

Quinn’s heart can’t stop thrashing in her chest, and she as looks into the brunette’s eyes, seeing nothing but love and care shining back at her, she whispers, “You’ll get hurt if you be with me.”

“Only if you let me,” Rachel counters as she stands up to walk a step closer.

“I don’t deserve you.”

Another step closer. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

“I’m running out of excuses.”

One final step. “Good.”

And then their lips meet, and there’s nothing else.

It’s been a week since their kiss, but to Quinn, it’s felt like an eternity, because Rachel is soft and warm and _there_ , and the blonde loves everything about her.

From her hair to her verbose diatribes to the way Rachel _loves_ without hesitation, Quinn is infatuated with every part of her, falling deeper and deeper with brown tresses and a beaming smile.

Her hand immediately reaches out to the brunette’s waist, trailing patterns on her sides, and the other going to the back of Rachel’s head, tangling her fingers into silky locks. Angling her head just right, their lips seem made for each other, filling up spaces that she doesn’t even know existed, and she presses even harder, moving closer.

Rachel responds eagerly with passion, kissing back with an avid hunger matching Quinn’s, and ignoring the burning fire screaming for oxygen in her lungs, the blonde refuses to let go, needing to taste this heavenly bliss for as long as she can.

Lips meet again, and again, and again, until time seems like a foreign concept, forgotten to pleasure and lust. At some point, Quinn’s tongue swipes across the smooth expanse of Rachel’s lower lip, and the diva gladly grants her access into her mouth.

Their tongues meet, and they chase and lead each other in a graceful dance, guiding to everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Quinn feels hyperaware of every move Rachel makes, attuned to every breath and every beat that passes, and a pit of molten fire opens itself in her chest, rippling through her veins.

Pushing harder, she takes control of the kiss, gripping tighter at the shorter girl’s hair. Edging them to her bed, they fall into a heap of limbs and body parts, mouths still attached to each other desperately, and when Rachel’s hand slides up her shirt to trace her abs, Quinn can’t help the moan that bubbles out her throat.

In return, the brunette lets out a low groan, and uncontrollably, her hips come up to grind against the superhero’s thigh, and it takes every bit of self-control Quinn has to pull away instead of humping wildly like a cat in heat.

“Fuck,” Rachel sighs out as they lay side to side on the bed, chest rising and falling hastily with ragged breaths.

Quinn quirks her lips, and she raises an eyebrow, propping herself up on her elbow to face her roommate, teasing, “I thought that you didn’t condone swearing?”

“Oh hush, Fabray,” Rachel smiles, “I’ll acknowledge that some…situations call for it.”

“Guess I’m just _that_ good then,” the taller girl smirks, and when the brunette swats at her arm, she laughs, free and light.

They fall silent then, locked in a comfortable embrace, and with her head buried in Quinn’s neck, Rachel tentatively asks, “So…you like me back?”

The blonde might’ve laughed, but the vulnerability she finds in Rachel’s voice can’t be mistaken, and softly, she presses a kiss to the shorter girl’s forehead. “Yeah Short, I like you back.”

The brunette makes a happy hum against Quinn’s neck, and she begins to pepper open-mouthed kisses to the pale skin, trailing from her collarbone to her jaw.

“Rach,” Quinn groans, “We haven’t even gone out on a date yet.”

Momentarily halted in her advances, Rachel pouts, and the sight of those red swollen lips sends another pang of arousal right to Quinn’s stomach. “I’ll admit that while I find chivalry to be an admirable quality, I swear if you don’t kiss me right now, I’ll go ahead and get kidnapped again so you’ll be forced to passionately make out with me in the heat of the moment.”

The statement in its absurdity causes Quinn’s to furrow her brow. “Wait, what?”

At this, Rachel gives her a sheepish grin. “I may or may not have been intentionally going to places with high crime-rates that you patrolled to capture your attention.”

Jaw hanging wide, Quinn doesn’t know whether to be mad or to be charmed, because it’s so utterly _Rachel_ in its execution. “You’re crazy, Rachel Berry.”

Rachel shrugs, and suddenly, she’s even closer, crawling up on Quinn with a look that can only be described as liquid sex. “Well, look on the bright side then,” she says as she wears a predatory grin, eyes dark with need as she whispers in the blonde’s ear, “Now I’ll _definitely_ be too busy to get into trouble.”

Quinn growls, low and husky, and with a turn of her head, their lips are fused together once more, and all is right in the world.

 

 

** FIN **


End file.
